


Project D

by nosetothewind94, Ryennin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allergies, Alpha Derek, Beta Scott McCall, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt Derek Hale, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Isaac is a Little Shit, Laser Tag, Light Angst, Lydia is an evil genius, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Picnics, Sick Derek Hale, So is Erica, Spark Stiles Stilinski, The Pack Ships It, like really light, the Abominable Snowman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-07 23:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8819617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosetothewind94/pseuds/nosetothewind94, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryennin/pseuds/Ryennin
Summary: The pack is fed up with the tension between Derek and Stiles so they stage an intervention. When that doesn't help, they decide to take matters into their own hands. orThe one where the pack meddles, the Universe is a dick and sometimes, all you need to finally get what you want is 3 disastrous attempts and the Abominable Snowman...





	1. Spring

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I would like to give a huge shout out to our two lovely betas, [ivoriholmes](http://ivoriholmes.tumblr.com) and [sterekohtp](http://sterekohtp.tumblr.com). You guys rock and you made this story so much more coherent. Thank you!  
> Second shout out goes to our friend Bea, who translated chapter 1 for us. Thank you, you've been a tremendous help!
> 
> And if any of you were wondering, the story itself was written by [Ryennin](http://ritarmandi.tumblr.com), aka. ritarmandi and translated by me, [nosetothewind](http://nosetothewind94.tumblr.com). Illustrations were also done by us.
> 
> We hope you enjoy and wish you a very Sterek Holiday Season!

There was a heated debate during the usual Sunday night pack meeting about how to settle the newest threat in the not so peaceful town of Beacon Hills. The members of the Hale-McCall pack had lately picked up the habit of getting together in Derek’s spacious loft and for their comfort the owner of the place was even willing to buy such commodities as two long sofas and an enormous refrigerator.

 

Stiles was usually an active participant and advocate of these events – and he loved to set up strategies – but today his thoughts seemed to be wandering elsewhere. One of the reasons might have been that he had forgotten his usual dose of Adderall in the morning hustle, which had been caused by a dead battery and his alarm clock. In any case, he really had a hard time concentrating on the snow-monster situation – or whatever it was – and his thoughts kept turning back to the grumpy owner of the loft.

 

The teen tried to stealthily glance in Derek’s general direction while avoiding anyone noticing him. Obviously, it wasn’t the easiest of tasks in a room full of werewolves, but Stiles was in luck because the alpha was standing right in front of the huge wall-to-ceiling windows with folded arms. Stiles strongly hoped that his movements looked to the other spectators as if he was only looking at the view or checking the weather.

 

Stiles wasn’t in the most fortunate of situations, since he was at an age when youngsters dared to dream big dreams. And Derek was such a big dream, a desire which Stiles knew would never be fulfilled. If the boy had only seen a small glimmer of hope of having a good chance with Derek, he would have committed himself fully to the man. And it wasn’t just about the amazing and impressive looks of Derek, with his jet-black hair and his stubble-framed profile carved from marble. Stiles never said it, but lately he had grown accustomed to the man’s personality as well. This whole Derek-thing started when Scott and Stiles accidentally bumped into the werewolf in the middle of the Hale’s land. A lot had happened since then and Stiles’ first crush had turned into something more.

 

“Stiles!” Lydia said stepping behind him, pulling him out of his train of thought. The unexpected voice startled him and he jumped. In a series of movements he presented a complex equilibrist routine at the end of which he ended up in a heap in front of Lydia’s feet. The banshee observed this series of events with the stoic calmness of someone who was used to the fact that people tumble and fall in front of her. Stiles knew better than most that wasn’t surprising at all. Since the stunning looks of the girl with her long strawberry blonde hair, enchanting eyes and tempting lips have probably already prepared Lydia for such cases.

 

After Stiles had put his limbs in the right order, Lydia beamed a sweet smile at him like nothing had happened. “I hope you know that drooling won’t get you anywhere near Derek.”

 

“What are you talking about, Lydia? Who wants to get closer to him? Not me definitely. Noooo way. Nicht, nada, ikke. You wanna hear the Polish version? Nje. Or in French? Or…”

 

“I’m talking about the way you look when you are emphatically NOT staring at Derek.” Lydia pursed her lips. “I suggest, you, my dear, get a napkin or else the saliva trails might lead him to you.” Finishing her sentence, Lydia made an unbelievably classy move and threw her strawberry waves behind her back.

 

The really problematic thing about Lydia was that she was not only a remarkable observer, but also incredibly smart, so it wasn’t easy to outsmart her. The banshee girl with her ethereal beauty and her sharp mind was such a mixture of female characteristics that was irresistible to both men and women, and she captured hearts with a glance. Stiles himself had been dreaming for ages about marrying the uncrowned queen of Beacon Hills and living happily ever after with their thirty kids in their little house with a white-picket fence. Those years were gone, but the childhood admiration had grown into strong friendship.

 

Stiles’ brain was madly jumping from one line of thought to another and he was lost in them so deeply that for a moment he forgot where he was. He only recovered when Lydia firmly grabbed his arm and – since the gathering had been over for ten minutes already – she steered the still dreaming body of the boy towards their cars.

 

“Lydia, we can’t go with your car!” Stiles recoiled for a moment when he realized they were heading towards the girl’s Toyota.

 

“Of course we can and we will! You and I have a lot to talk about.” The banshee stabbed her perfectly manicured fingers in Stiles’ chest “Urgently! Now!” She managed to utter these last words through tightly squeezed lips which made her message even more emphatic.

 

Getting into a quarrel with a Martin was as hopeless as bailing out the ocean with a spoon. Seeing the girl’s derogatory look, the younger Stilinski understood that it was utterly useless to reason with her: he had to follow Lydia even if unicorns started falling from the sky. In the meantime, Derek for some reason appeared in the entrance of the loft with a maliciously smiling, ruby lipped Erica on his side, the two watching the miserable attempts of the teens beside the car.

 

“Don’t you worry, Batman! Derek here,” Erica knuckled the man meaningfully in his side, “will take care of your car. Right?”

 

As an answer, Derek let out a snort combined with an eye-roll, like he was asked to march through the streets of Beacon Hills in a pink tutu, but he gave in eventually and made his not so soothing enunciation with a huge sigh.

 

“Right.”

 

Stiles got in the Toyota a little unsteadily and before closing the door he turned to Lydia with doubt in his eyes.

 

“I don’t think it’s a good id…” but Lydia shut the door on him without further ado, then gracefully balancing in her high heels ran to the other side of the car and they drove away faster than Stiles could even say ‘wolf’.

 

 

**********

 

 

Right after the extremely unpleasant ride – during which Lydia wasn’t at all willing to answer any of the questions Stiles showered her with – they parked their car at the banshee’s grandmother’s lakeside house. Stiles was confused he had no idea why they ended up there, but he was 100% sure the easiest way to get answers would be to simply follow Lydia’s 8-inch heels quickly.

 

To his great surprise he found Scott, Isaac and Allison in the friendly, colorfully decorated room when he entered the house. Stiles’ face showed perplexed skepticism and growing fury. He looked at them suspiciously, thrust his hands in his pockets and stood still.

 

“I really don’t want to be an asshole but what the hell is happening here?”

 

“Sit down, Stiles, we need to talk.” Lydia commanded.

 

“And we have to act out some weird soft-porn version of Taken 4 for that?” Stiles’ tone was mocking. “No, thank you, I won’t sit down. One of you might want to hit me in the head and use me as virgin-sacrifice. I swear to god you look like you’re going to, the way you’re all sitting there!”

 

Scott looked remorsefully at his friend, using his puppy-eyes to soften his mood. “Dude, don’t be mad, we really need to talk to you, but just bringing the topic up would have made you run away.”

 

“And now I can’t.”

 

Scott’s face reddened.

 

“Allison brought a rope and that armchair looks absolutely comfy, plus, you know,  werewolves…” Isaac joined the conversation, pointing idly at the piece of furniture standing in the corner. “If you ask me, we’ll finish sooner if you just sit down and we get this over with. I would love to sleep and honestly, I’m only here because Derek’s unresolved sexual tension has nearly set the loft on fire and my nose cannot take any more of the high flying hormones.”

 

“Derek? What does Derek have to do with it?”

 

The members of the small team began silently communicating to each other, which Stiles could only tolerate for some time before he started bouncing his leg nervously.

 

“Oh, for God’s sake just spit it out!”

 

“We want to get you and Derek together,” said Lydia.

 

“We want you to start bedroom gymnastics with Derek,” replied Isaac at the same moment and when Lydia kicked him under the table he corrected himself. “No, just forget it, it’s what Lydia said.”

 

The boy was speechless. He expected a lot of things but, not surprisingly, most of these were connected to dark, supernatural events in his head but the fact that the pack wanted to start a dating business behind his back, aiming their first attempt at him and Derek ‘Murder Eyebrows’ Hale. That wasn’t something he could ever visualize, even in his wildest dreams. Slowly – very slowly – and hoping that it was with great decorum – he headed towards the closest chair to sit down. The others held their breath, waiting for his reaction. The air was heavy with expectation and excitement.

 

“What. The. Fuck. What the fuck… What the…” Stiles let out his steaming anger while gasping for air. “Okay, let’s start at the beginning.”

 

“Chill out, Stiles! It’s just that we all see how you feel about Derek.” Allison uttered the words with utmost caution, as though she was afraid he might explode.

 

Their fear was somewhat justified, for the teen was at the beginning of his apprenticeship as a druid and his power was yet unstable. Deaton was keen to take the young and enthusiastic apprentice under his wings but this made the hidden forces in Stiles go wild and free. The after-school-lessons helped him to gain more control but even with that, he was often prone to setting things on fire and blow stuff up when he was in an elevated emotional state. None of them spoke about the events of the first week when Stiles had set fire to the chemistry lab at one of Harris’ malicious actions and two days later he unintentionally made ’shrapnel cones’ and set them off in the face of a hostile werewolf chasing him and Scott.

 

“Oh, for God’s sake, the situation is not that complex!” Lydia snapped, looking up from checking her beautifully manicured nails. “We all know you’ve been lusting after Derek for months now.” Stiles opened his mouth in protest but the ginger beauty stopped him.

 

“Stop denying it! Two weeks ago, at the last pack meeting, you were chatting for half an hour about how you admire men with hazel eyes and black hair. Then you asked what jeans you should wear. _You_ , Stiles, asked for fashion advice from me while your eyes were bulging out of their socket, staring at Derek’s butt. Just to mention a few examples.”

 

“Lydia’s right. When you’re both in the room, I’d rather leave the two of you alone to…” Allison blushed and a wide, slightly embarrassed smile appeared on her face that showed her dimples.

 

“To what?” asked Stiles, suspiciously.

 

“Well, to…to…”

 

“UST, Stiles, Unresolved Sexual Tension. To make it simple, the two of you, in the same room smell and look as if both of you are dying to tear off each other’s clothes, shove the other against a wall, and go to town and burn it to the ground around you with all kinds of filthy, hot se... Ouch!” Allison aimed another kick at Isaac’s shinbone and the boy looked slightly guilty. “Too graphic?”

 

“Too graphic,” nodded Allison.

 

“Well, anyway, we have all been hoping for months now that the two of you will finally get together or something, because the situation is getting out of hand.” The wolf with the blond, curly hair sighed deeply like all the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “You cannot _imagine_ what it’s like to live with a werewolf who is so... hungry. Last time we were afraid to go home for half a day because Erica hugged you and Derek was pacing to and fro in the flat, enraged, like the two of you had gotten engaged or something. And the pheromones, Jesus Christ, the pheromones. They are everywhere… that scent is so unbearably sweet, it makes me queasy. Honestly, all that’s missing are the small pink hearts flying over Derek’s head when he looks at you or talks about you.”

 

 

“You mean thunder and lightning.” Stiles was looking at them, drumming with his fingers on the table. “Guys, don’t be ridiculous! Derek wants me as much as Finnstock wants Greenberg.”

 

“But you won’t deny,” Lydia haughtily raised her eyebrows, “that you want to be with him.“

 

“I …” Stiles felt like being caught red-handed. It was a fact that ever since the older werewolf entered their lives the boy felt an unexplained longing after him. And he wasn’t blind, he fantasized, during their private lessons, about how he would grip Derek’s shoulder with one hand, and his black hair with the other while getting off as their bodies wildly danced them into the climax of a wondrous orgasm. Well, okay, he thought of the man quite a few times like that, and in several different positions. And through the fog of his raging hormones he also knew he was half in love with Derek. But knowing this, and showing it to the world were two absolutely different things. And Stiles thought he was good at keeping his desires to himself.

 

 

“Scotty? Anything you want to say?”

 

“Look, budy, at Lydia’s party ranted at me about the meaning of the triskele in different cultures but after your third bottle of beer you _also_ told me your incredibly detailed list of fantasies about you and Derek, and those were things I did _not_ want to know. I really wish brain bleach was a thing…” The beta shook his head and his hair fluttered, shaken by the memory.

 

“Et tu, Scott?” Stiles looked shocked at his friend.

 

“Bro, what’s best for you is best for me and this situation is unbearable.” Scott replied. “While heading home, you asked me ten different times in the car if I too thought, that Derek’s handsome and if you had a chance with him. Then you started crying and stated you would never give up hope and that ’huge idiotic grumpy sourwolf’ would one day invite you on a date and fall in love with you. Or there’s that other case, when you set that Tyler Hoechlin guy as a background image – because he has a similar profile as Derek.”

 

The boy’s face turned poppy-red since the aforementioned picture was still his screensaver.

 

“We thought,“ Lydia meaningfully looked at the pack, “that we might help the two of you a little. Nothing special or complicated: the aim is to pull your heads out of your respective asses and stop chasing each other finally.”

 

“Lyds, I don’t want to be a kill-joy but this sounds like an utterly lame category z chick-flick’s plotline and I’m not sure I want to be a part of it. Plans like these always have a bad ending.” Stiles said finally as he stood up and headed for the door. ”I’ll wait for you outside. I hope someone will take me home since I had to leave Roscoe behind at the loft.”

 

“Stiles, please, promise me at least that you won’t let your chances pass you by!” Scott grabbed the boy’s arm with a huge, somewhat dumb and hopeful smile on his face. Stiles left his friend behind without a word.

 

Isaac stood up with a tired groan, stretching his long limbs. “They won’t be easy to deal with.”

 

“No, they won’t, but we have already started to get bored anyway,” Lydia fiendishly smiled. “I think we can all state that _Project D_ has officially been launched.”


	2. Summer

Derek ran mindlessly through the Preserve towards the clearing to be in time. He didn’t know what the emergency was but the sound of fear in Erica’s voice over the phone as she’d called, had been tangible. He burst into the clearing as if counting on a whole pack of Alphas to greet him on sight.

 

Instead, he found himself staring at a picnic basket on top of an – obviously - red checkered blanket in the middle of a tiny picturesque clearing, which was lit by the rays of the summer sun through the trees.

 

That, and a slightly startled and very confused looking Stiles Stilinski standing next to it, nervously tugging on one of the strings of his ever present red hoodie.

 

“Derek?”

 

“Stiles?”

 

The two men simultaneously exclaimed, then proceeded to stand there in awkward silence staring at each other. Derek still shifted to his beta form, Stiles with his hood on his head and hands in his pockets.

 

“Where’s the danger? I can’t smell anything off. What are you doing here?” started the werewolf, his claws still out in case of emergency, looking around for anything amiss. “Erica called me saying she was in trouble.”

 

Stiles’ amber eyes met his, then looked around the clearing, perusing the trees towering over them, then finally landed on the gift basket waiting in the middle, on top of which a cheery note exclaimed:

For ST+EREK

Eat me! :)

_The team of Project D_

 

 

“Lydia” Stiles said.

 

“Erica” growled Derek, slightly slurring the word due to his fangs.

 

“I’ve been asked by our own red demon to pop ‘round here on my way home to get her scarf she left here after her disastrous date yesterday. She said her car’s in the shop. Come to think of it,” said Stiles, with a pained frown,” that was quite transparent. And she was smiling at me in that slightly terrifying way of hers. Oh, God,” he moaned, dragging a hand down his face “how could I have been so stupid? I think, “he said, dragging his hood down and messing his hair up even more than usual, „they’re probably laughing at our expense about this somewhere. What the hell is a StErek, anyway? They could’ve at least written our names out properly. This makes us sound like Brangelina or something.”

 

“Like what?” blinked Derek, baffled.

 

“Never mind” answered Stiles. “I don’t know about you, big guy, but seeing as we’re here anyway, we could break the cliché of fairy tales and demolish this Alice in Wonderland vs Little Red Riding Hood inspired menu. I, personally, am hungry like a _wolf_ ” he winked.

 

The werewolf narrowed his eyes and stared at the basket and the boy sitting down next to it in suspicion. This whole situation was absurd and just completely ridiculous.

 

He still remembered the conversation he had with Erica and Boyd a few days prior, both of whom tried to get him to be a bit more open and to initiate something with Stiles. To try and woo him, as they said. Stiles, who, according to Erica (who had been filing her leopard print nails at the time) has been ogling Derek for months. Derek didn’t know what to do with that information. Even though as a werewolf his senses were much sharper than the average human’s, he was just as vulnerable (if not more) when it came to matters of his heart.

 

He was neither blind nor stupid, though. He had imagined countless times the exact number and placement of moles dotting Stiles’ pale skin under his infuriating layers of graphic tees, plaid shirts and that ever present infernal red hoodie. (The irony was never lost on him.) He couldn’t count the number of times he wished he could kiss Stiles breathless, if only just to make him finally shut up for a moment. Not to mention the time he spent wishing he could make Stiles his.

 

Derek knew Stiles was attracted to him, the smell of the amount of want radiating from him regularly was almost thick enough to cut, but he was also aware the enticing scent was not only there because of him. He knew how teenagers worked, how the amount and combination of hormones coursing through Stiles’ veins on an average day would make him smell basically the same in the company of a mop, too. Though he still held a tiny hope that there one day might still be something between them. Erica’s nudging had slightly strengthened this hope.

 

With an almighty sigh he sat down next to the teen currently spread out on the blanket, with his face turned towards the sun, as if to sunbathe and enjoy the slight breeze through the trees and the gentle warmth of summer. Stiles lay there for a few minutes silently, then turned to Derek.

 

“It’s a bit annoying that the girls turned their evil powers towards setting us up on a random date. But, since we’re here anyway”, he winked,” we could always enjoy the advantages of their scheming ways.”

 

“And what would those advantages be?”

 

“Well, there’s the free food and alcohol, obviously,” said Stiles, waving his arms towards the basket. “And also my sparkling personality as company.”

 

“My days would definitely be a lot more boring without you,” said Derek, rolling his eyes. “I have no idea how I’d survive without my daily dose of useless information.”

 

“Oh, come on! I’m the light of your dreary life,“ teased Stiles with a half-smile, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Sometimes I don’t know how you live with your sour ways and your constantly grim brows.”

 

“Lots of Bloody Mary’s,” was the wolf’s deadpan answer, accompanied with a lift of a sardonic eyebrow.

 

Stiles stared incredulously at him for a moment before bursting out in loud, ringing laughter. It was the kind of laugh that moved his whole body, every tiny muscle in his face and also forced the listener to smile.

 

The whole scene was so peaceful it made the werewolf’s heart squeeze with the thought of how he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at ease. The quiet sounds of the forest around them, the chirping of the birds, the enticing scent of Stiles’ happiness that was so overwhelming Derek almost felt as if he were drunk on it. This day felt pretty close to perfect _,_ he thought.

 

During Derek’s musings Stiles decided to investigate the mysterious contents of the picnic basket left by Lydia and Erica. He dug around and came up with some delicious looking honey and almond cake and a bottle of wine - Derek didn’t want to think too hard about how the girls had acquired said wine – just waiting to be devoured.

 

An hour, and half bottle of wine later the werewolf was hit by the realization that they were actually pretty good at normal, colorful conversation that didn’t devolve into sarcastic bickering. This Saturday was shaping up to be exactly how it was written in the Big Book of Romance – pink hearts and all.

 

Derek was just thinking about asking Stiles out on a second ‘meeting’, while he listened to one of Stiles’ insane stories, watching as he waved his arms around in big gestures, when things suddenly took a turn for the worse.

 

Stiles decided to demolish the remaining cake Derek had left, as a precaution before the alcohol that he had drunk – since he was the only one who had consumed any, seeing how it had zero effect on the wolf – would make him do something he’d regret later, like kiss Derek or something. Who knew what his slightly drunk self would come up with?

 

Less than ten minutes later he started to itch. First on his arm, then his neck. Where before there was pristine, white skin only broken by the tiny brown dots of his moles, was now covered with angry red splotches. The teen stared at his arms incredulously, before turning his whiskey eyes onto the few, innocent looking crumbs remaining on the plate, staring at them in betrayal. But it was too late. By now not only were his arms and neck aflame with the red rash spreading to his chest, his breathing had also started to turn choppy and labored.

 

“Derek… the cake” he tried to get out through his slowly swelling throat. “Bag, wallet… Melissa…”

 

The werewolf’s alarm was indescribable as he quickly grabbed for the bag pack of the boy slowly slipping into an anaphylactic shock, to dig out the tiny vial for his epinephrine. Injection administered, Stiles’ immune system had an easier chance against the allergic reaction, but Derek had never sprinted as fast in his life as he had with a wheezing Stiles in his arms towards Beacon Memorial Hospital.

 

Stiles was somewhat aware of his surroundings, though his thoughts were largely hazed over by the need to breathe and the unbearable itching that would’ve urged him – had he not been slightly jolting against Derek’s torso as he ran – to claw off his skin just to stop the feeling.

 

As he came to in a hospital bed, slightly loopy from pain and medication, he registered his dad debating what had exactly happened with a concerned looking Melissa. He also vaguely remembered something about Lydia tearing Erica a new one over the walnuts she added to the cake as a supplement next to the almonds.

 

But what he remembered the most, was the feeling of Derek Hale worriedly holding his right hand, trying his best not to let anyone notice his presence. As Stiles drifted off with a slight smile on his face, his last conscious thought was that under the gruff exterior and the Murder Eyebrows, Derek actually cared quite a lot.

 

There was still hope.


	3. Fall

Summer went by way too quickly and as the days turned a little cooler, the pack had to say goodbye to the joys of the break. The next semester of high school loomed above their heads as the Sword of Damocles, and Derek was enjoying the bit of quiet reprieve he finally got in the mornings while the teens were stuck in Beacon Hills High.

 

Things between him and Stiles were kind of… stagnant.

 

After the whole debacle with Stiles and his allergic reaction, Derek felt guilty. Even if he was rationally aware that it wasn’t his fault, he still felt responsible. According to Erica, their main problem was that they were incapable of communication. Derek knew there was truth in what she claimed, but he was terrified of rejection and of screwing up everything – again – if he let himself love once more, so he tried to distract himself.

 

For example, he helped Deaton out in his supernatural endeavors around the clinic, which had absolutely _nothing_ to do with the fact that this way, he got to inconspicuously spend some time around Stiles every week. _None whatsoever_.

 

Contrary to Isaac’s hopes this did not help the alpha feel better, in fact he seemed to get more and more cranky and snappish as the weeks went by. Allison tried to explain to the curly haired beta that it was because this way, Derek saw what he was yearning for every day, yet thought he would never be able to obtain it.

 

After a few weeks of agony – and between cramming for two of Mr. Harris’ brutal chemistry tests – the beta decided to take matters into his own hands and try to finally get Little Red and The Big Bad Wolf together in a little less romantic setting. And one day, finally, Fortune gave him the perfect opportunity.

 

**********

 

Isaac had come up with the idea of visiting Beacon Hills’ very own, newly opened laser tag arena. He had stormed down the spiral staircase of the loft but came to a halt, looked around and huffed out a dejected sigh when he realized only Scott and Stiles were there waiting for him.

 

“What happened to Allison? I thought she was supposed to be our fourth player.”

 

“Well, apparently she had some kind of _girly_ emergency and she said she was sorry, but wouldn’t be able to join us. But we thought _someone_ ,” Scott said, pointing with his crooked jaw towards Derek sitting on the couch immersed in a book, with such vehemence it was a miracle he didn’t get whiplash, “could jump in as a substitute.”

 

Isaac got the hint and with an evil smirk on his deceptively cherubic face turned towards the older werewolf. “Derek, you hear this? Allison cancelled on us for laser tag and so, we have an opening. You wanna join instead of burying yourself in that boring, dusty old book of yours for the rest of the day and actually come have some fun?”

 

Derek looked up from said book incredibly slowly and lifted his eyebrows with a sinister air to him. “Let me think. Hmmm… _No_.” He said, immersing himself back into his tome.

 

Stiles thought if what the pack had said was true, he should probably try convincing Derek with a flirty smile and fluttering his lashes at him a bit, so he dropped down next to him on the couch. “Come on, Sourwolf! Don’t be so dour, all this concealed irritation expressed only through those eyebrows of yours, it’s not good for your skin you know.” He punched Derek slightly in his impressive biceps to add emphasis to his statement.

 

“Stiles, if you hadn’t noticed,” said Derek, closing his book with a final sounding _thwak_ and turning to the teen, nostrils slightly flaring in irritation, “werewolves don’t really have skin troubles.”

 

“Well, looking at yours I can certainly believe that. But regardless, we’re still missing a fourth person and unfortunately at the moment, “Stiles let out a dramatic sigh for effect, “you seem to be the only one available.”

 

“And Boyd,” said Derek, pointing towards the beta who stepped out of the kitchen at that precise moment. “Take him. I need to rest and would like to spend at least five minutes without teenagers constantly buzzing around.”

 

“Rude, man, rude!” said Stiles, putting his hands over his heart and shaking his head in mock-pain.

 

“Besides,” Isaac cut in, adjusting his blue scarf, “Boyd’s also unavailable.”

 

“And why is Boyd unavailable?” Derek shot back, his voice sharp. “Wait, let me guess: something _urgent_ just _suddenly_ came up.”

 

“If you really want to know, yes. Boyd has some really important, urgent matter to attend to. You could also say,” Isaac continued without a beat, as Scott came back from the bathroom, “that it’s an emergency.”

 

Boyd just stood in the crossfire waiting it all out, looking like someone watching an incredibly boring tennis match.

 

“Boyd, are you aware that you have acquired some mysterious and unavoidable obligation in the past half hour? Because I distinctly remember you saying you have a chemistry test tomorrow you need to study for,” said Derek. As he stood up he was hit by a spell of dizziness for a moment but fortunately it was gone before anyone else could register it. He crossed his arms over his chest in defense then started to massage his temple with his right hand to dispel the headache he could feel brewing. Which was ridiculous, since he couldn’t get a headache.

 

“That was half an hour ago. Since then… uh…” floundered Scott, trying to find a way to end his statement. He looked around desperately, hoping someone would take pity on him and help him out.

 

Boyd heaved a sigh and relented, deciding to assist the other betas. “Erica called. She needs to go to Sacramento ASAP. She said something about a dress and some torn seams… The gist being, I’ve gotta go and pick her and Lydia up and some café in ten minutes. So see ya, I’m out.” And with this parting shot, he picked up his keys and walked out the sliding door.

 

“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Boyd speak so much at once before. Do you think he’s alright? Will Erica tear his head off if he’s late?” Stiles said in wonderment, automatically reaching for the book Derek left haphazardly on the couch and picking it up, then letting out a surprised laugh. “ _Greek Tales and Legends_? Seriously, Derek? I would’ve thought you’d’ve grown out of this stuff by now.”

 

“Erica left it here and I was bored,” Derek snapped. “She’s living her mythology phase.”

 

“Oh, yeah. A few weeks ago half the loft was swimming in books about Celtic legends and Erica was growling and snapping her fangs at anyone who even dared move one an inch without her permission,” laughed Isaac. “That girl, I swear. Our problem though, with Boyd’s departure has still not been resolved. Seems like you’ve got no other choice, Derek. You have to come with us.”

 

“We have a reservation for one of the courses,” butted in Scott.

 

Derek looked over the faces of all the teens staring at him and decided to put on his most serious and dismissive scowl and boot all of them out of his home, and regardless of the early hour, just go to sleep. But just as he was about to open his mouth to reply, his glance happened to land on Stiles and his huge, amber eyes that reminded him of Bambi, filled with so much hope they were practically shining with it, and he just crumbled.

 

He had no idea how much was true of Erica - and Boyd’s – hour long presentation on how much Stiles Stilinski daydreamed about him in his spare time, but right now he saw something behind those insanely long lashes that made him pause. So much longing, joy and ever cursed hope that despite how his head was starting to pound, he gave in with a sigh. “Fine. Let’s go.”

**********

The laser tag arena was deep inside the forest surrounding Beacon Hills and Derek thought it actually looked pretty good. The owner had obviously not spared any time or expense in designing and setting up the many courses. There were different bunkers and hideouts between and even in the trees, some connected by rope ladders and bridges.

 

Derek had never tried this game before but he did have some experience hiding and hunting. He looked at Stiles in askance when he suddenly popped up beside him wearing a green camo colored vest, headband and holding out the same towards him with a slightly manic grin on his face.

 

“Here, wear these, big guy. Scott and Isaac have brown, “he said, pointing at his getup,” so try to aim at that and try to _not_ shoot me in the back instead. I’m at an unfair disadvantage next to all of your wolfy super senses anyway…”

 

“Remind me again, which of us can shoot fire from their fingertips?” Derek said with a raised eyebrow but Stiles paid him no mind.

 

“I’m not even going to address that. Dad texts me at least three times a day – and you know how bad he is at texting, I don’t even wanna think about how long each takes him – to remind me not to burn down anything. Anyway,” said Stiles, fastening his headband in place, „this here is the sensor that’ll take signals from all around if someone hits you with a shot. I’m gonna wait until you put it on, Grumpy Cat.”

 

Derek heaved a weary sigh and lifted the ridiculous band to his forehead, but before he could fasten it in place, Stiles picked it out of his hands.

 

“First the cap. Good. Obviously your black hair won’t shine through the trees as much as Isaac’s blond but won’t be any harm if you have it on anyway,” said Stiles drawing the cap down over Derek’s head before he could make a move to do it himself and fastened the headband in place.” There. It doesn’t look half bad, Sourwolf,” he said, with a lopsided smirk.

 

Despite how Derek was trying to give him a dark look the whole scene somehow felt strangely private and intimate. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Stiles’ enticing lips that the teen kept licking unconsciously. He could feel the air thicken between them and all he would have needed to do was tilt his head a few inches to finally catch those maddening pink lips with his. He felt his stomach contract at the thought and took a step back instead.

 

“Okay, I think we’re good to go” laughed Stiles nervously as he brushed imaginary lint off the alpha’s vest. “So, our target is to seek out Scott and Isaac’s hidey hole and steal their flag. Obviously, they will try to defend it. This here,” he said, thrusting a rifle into Derek’s hands, “is a very useful little toy. Completely automatic and gets double ammo. Since there’s only two of us we can swap weapons, so I thought I’d take the grenade and the automatic and you can play sniper with that, since it has three times the range mine does. Alright?”

 

Derek nodded, enjoying the way Stiles got more and more animated as he talked, waving his arms around as he explained the concept of the game. It actually sounded kind of fun, even though he felt a bit lethargic, his limbs a little heavy and the pounding in his head had not stopped, but since the latter was impossible he brushed it away as his imagination playing tricks and – as Erica would call it - him trying to get away from his messy feelings.

 

Meanwhile Stiles continued. “You’re gonna be the decoy and I, since I’m a lot smaller and sneakier, am going to creep into their base unseen and… “Derek couldn’t stop his derisive snort.” Oh, come on! I can be sneaky, too! Do you have any idea how many times I slipped into Dad’s office without anyone noticing? Anyway, the point is, you’ve got to play some kind of werewolf-Rambo and take down the enemy. The best thing is that the sensors perceive infrared light – that’s gonna imitate the muzzle flash – and if your shot hits its mark, the headband on your opponent’s gonna start flashing red. It’s awesome. Okay, let’s get going and crush the fluffy tails of those losers!”

 

Derek loved the first half hour. They managed to find the betas’ base pretty quickly. Isaac had probably left the strategizing to Scott – their first mistake – because they chose the most obvious shack on the whole course. They didn’t give their flag up easily though. Derek had been following a scent trail for five minutes before it ended with him finding Isaac’s left sock hanging from a branch – he was a sneaky little shit. The alpha decided to not mention it to anyone that he had almost managed to shoot a size 10 piece of fabric, and opted to use his sight instead of his nose in the future.

 

 

After that it didn’t take long for him to spot Isaac’s blond curls sticking out from under his cap, and – with a practiced movement - lifted his weapon and shot. The only thing that saved the tall beta were his quick reflexes and Derek found himself being tackled by the teen in a friendly wrestling match to the win.

 

In the end, Team StErek won not because of Stiles’ excellent strategy, but because of Scott screwing up. Namely, that the beta tried to help Isaac out by trying to shoot Derek, but accidentally missed and shot his team mate instead, during which Stiles had climbed with practiced ease into Team ScIsaac’s base and plucked their flag from its hiding place.

 

Scott’s indignant whine and Stiles’ loud laughter accompanied their decision for a re-match.

 

**********

 

While Stiles and Derek set out to find a hiding spot for their flag, Stiles was still laughingly lamenting over Scott and his complete lack of tactic sense despite the amount of time the two spent playing different video games.

 

By then it was close to noon and as he followed after the chuckling teen, Derek felt sweat break out all over his body. “Stiles,” he said sounding hoarse. “Could we stop for a moment?”

 

“We’re almost there and I’m almost done with the story, don’t be a killjoy,” the teen answered, not looking back as he cheerfully jiggled their vibrant red flag while he surged ahead.

 

“Please…”

 

At the sound of that one word Stiles stopped suddenly as if he’d walked into an invisible wall and wearily turned around. He had expected to see many things but Derek leaning into a tree, grabbing at it with claws looking shaky as a newborn fawn was not one of them. His face was deathly pale and his brow sweaty and he emphatically did _not_ look good.

 

“Shit, Derek, are you okay? I mean, stupid question, of course you’re not okay, but… what’s wrong?” Stiles ran over slightly panicky at the sight.

 

“I don’t know, I just… Everything feels a bit hazy and my limbs feel like they’re made of lead. “Derek ground out as his fangs started to appear. He dug his claws of his left into his thigh. “Stiles, I can’t control the shift. Something… something’s not right. My healing isn’t kicking in,” the alpha’s startled eyes, glowing red, snapped first to the blooming spots of blood on his jeans left by his claws, then to the teen staring at him wearily. “Stiles, get out of here. _Now!_ ”

 

“Like hell I’m going. We’ve gotta get you out of here before you collapse or somebody sees anything… uh… wolfy. Did anything happen? Derek? Derek, concentrate on my voice. Everything’s gonna be fine, I’ve texted Scott, they’re on their way,” said Stiles, waving his phone around. “I’m gonna leave a message for Deaton, too. Derek? DEREK?!”

 

Somewhere, in his haze Derek vaguely registered the sound of Stiles’ voice calling for him, but his mind was taken over by the fog. He didn’t fight it, and shame or not, he finally fainted.

 

**********

“I’m sorry, _what_?” Stiles’ outraged voice echoed off the walls of the vet clinic. “You’re telling me this idiotic, surly, stubborn bag of fleas came with us knowing the witch from yesterday infected him with _werewolf-flu_?”

 

“I have one question,” said Isaac, lifting his hand in the air. “This… _werewolf-flu_ , is this an actual thing? Should I be worried about getting infected and wanting to chew coach Finnstock’s arm off on Monday’s lacrosse practice?”

 

“Boys, boys! Everyone take a deep breath and calm down.” Deaton’s soothing voice helped a bit to quell Stiles’ nervous vibrating and pacing. “This mostly applies to you, Stiles, because I don’t want you to accidentally set yourself ablaze. Believe me, it’s quite an… unpleasant experience,” the vet shuddered slightly, as if remembering the feeling.

 

“How’s Derek?” Stiles’ voice came, colored by his obvious worry for the alpha.

 

“Derek is going to be fine but he will need a few days to recover. He tracked down a witch yesterday on my request, whose speciality turned out to be a casting of infectious curses. From what I’ve been able to understand from his feverish recount of events, before he was able to dispatch the witch she managed to blow some kind of greenish dust in his face. But since nothing happened at the time, Derek thought it would be fine and didn’t give it any more thought.” The druid looked at the teens with a disapproving shake of his head and continued. “Turns out it was a special mixture containing mistletoe and a rare strain of wolfsbane, among others. Its effect is delayed almost precisely 24 hours, which is why Derek’s symptoms appeared when they did. You all saw the outcome.”

 

“How long till he’s okay again?”

 

“I don’t have an exact answer to that, Scott.” Deaton sighed. “Derek is currently half-feral from pain and his already high body temperature has risen at least another 7 degrees. The powder appears to act as some kind of virulent as well as a poison. Since he’s currently unable to control his shifting and is in a vulnerable and aggressive state I have put him in quarantine for the duration of his sickness. This was also necessary to avoid any of you getting infected. And no, Stiles,” the vet answered before Stiles could utter a word,” you cannot visit him.

 

He needs at least a week of bedrest and strong medication. The problem with these cursed viruses is that they are incredibly stubborn and they are resistant even to werewolf healing. Derek was lucky to be able to dispose of the witch before she managed to curse him properly, or we might not have such a relatively easy way of dealing with this. I’m afraid the only thing we can do now, is wait. I suggest you go home and get some rest.”

 

The three teens deflated and started shuffling towards the exit, but the vet’s voice stopped them.

 

“Scott, Isaac! May I have a quick word with you? You may go, Mr. Stilinski, I’ll see you next Tuesday for your lesson.”

 

Stiles dragged his feet towards Roscoe. He knew Deaton – even with all his usual secrecy and whatnot – was right, and he wouldn’t be able to do any more for Derek at the moment, but it still didn’t sit well with him to just leave.

 

He turned around and decided to try and sneak in to see the alpha and check for himself how he was doing. He creeped through the maze of the corridors of the clinic, as quiet as a fox but before he could reach his destination he heard the slightly muffled voices of his friends and Deaton talking. He didn’t mean to listen in on the conversation but the words he heard had him freezing in his tracks.

 

 _“It would be great if you could convince the pack to stop with this whole_ Project D _thing. It pains me to say so but I think you might be causing more harm with it than good.” The vet’s voice was quiet but sincere._

_“I don’t understand, Deaton. Derek’s sickness has nothing to do with us, or Stiles,” said the confused voice of Scott. “What’s wrong with Project D?”_

_“Scott, if Mother Nature intends things to happen, she will find a way to do so but if she does not, she will do everything in her power to stop it from happening.” Deaton’s explanation was his usual levels of enigmatic and mysterious. “It is not your place to play gods. And this message equally applies to the two girls in charge of this whole madness, who should know better.”_

 

_“What are you trying to say?” said Isaac._

_“I’m just saying maybe it is not their destiny to be together. Have you taken that into account? I fear the universe may not agree with your machinations.”_

_“That kind of makes sense, Scott…” said Isaac, his voice thoughtful._

_“Maybe? I sort of see your poi…”_

 

Stiles couldn’t take any more of this and burst through the door in a rage.

 

“Is that really what you think? That Derek and I could never be happy together because God or Destiny or whatever you want to call it wouldn’t agree?” His voice cracked at the end, his rage burning out into despair. It hurt to hear one of his largest fears laid out like that by people who he thought loved and supported him. Especially since these were the exact friends who encouraged him in the past and the reason why he didn’t try to smother the ambers of his feelings anymore and now they stood there, stomping on his dreams. “If this is what you want, I will stop. I will stay away, do as you wish, just… make sure Derek’s okay.”

 

Stiles didn’t leave any time for them to answer as he turned on his heels and stormed out of the clinic without a glance back, leaving the two betas stunned and Deaton standing beside them, with a tiny, enigmatic curve to his mouth.


	4. Winter

Naturally Stiles didn’t leave the pack completely, he would never, but his demeanor towards Derek turned frosty and full of stilted formality. By the end of Derek’s forced vacation the situation was even worse. Derek had no idea what had happened to make Stiles almost hostile towards him and his confusion made everything even more strained. He didn’t understand why Stiles was suddenly pushing him away, had he done something wrong?

 

Meanwhile, Stiles was working hard on keeping himself in check and trying to shove his feelings down and keep away from Derek to spare his own heart. According to the pack, it was already almost impossible to exist beside the two of them, but now the situation had escalated to the point where it was completely unbearable to be in the same room as the grumpy alpha and the sarcastic teen. The sexual tension had been replaced by icy silences and an almost constant trading of sharp verbal barbs.

 

As winter drew nearer, Isaac joked that even the weather mimicked their mood and he also couldn’t resist a few sarcastic jabs about Stiles’ control over his powers being behind the sudden cold front. Though he never got far into lamenting over the situation, as Derek would growl at him and Stiles would puff up his face as if gearing up to the mother of all rants and Isaac usually decided it was best to retreat with his figurative tail between his legs and just leave them be.

 

The frosty stale mate between the alpha and druid-in-training was only one of the many problems they faced – including Erica’s sudden onset of obsessive Christmas decorating, Scott’s failing grades, but also more importantly: the snow monster situation.

 

Because that hadn’t gotten better in the past few months. At all.

 

In fact as the cool winter weather swept in, it brought with it not only snow, but also a rise in the mysterious attacks on the remaining populace of Beacon Hills. Previously there had been one every season, but now three unsuspecting teens had gone missing in the past four weeks. Their bodies had been found by the police a few days after their respective disappearances, completely desiccated. The BHPD were at a complete loss as to the cause of death.

 

Lydia and Stiles had immersed themselves in research, valiantly trying to figure out who – or what – could be the cause of the attacks. They had worked out that the creature itself couldn’t be alone – it had to have an accomplice – but until the incident with Lydia’s mirror, they were still completely in the dark. But as they stared at the glimmering, shattered pieces of her compact on the loft’s floor, the banshee had an epiphany.

 

She remembered something about a story her grandmother used to tell her when she was a little girl and finally got bored of the millionth reading of The Little Mermaid. A story, written by the Danish storyteller, Hans Christian Andersen. She remembered something about a mirror, which showed a different reality, recalled something about a Queen who was born from frost and ice.

 

Lydia theorized that the fairy tale’s Ice Queen and her magic mirror had to be the key to the strange attacks, her motive none other than her own vanity: she drew life essence from the teens to keep herself young; her mirror working as a gate to pass from our realm to hers.

 

And thus, the hunt to find her lair was on but it wasn’t very successful. (Which was strange – as Stiles slightly cynically pointed out – what with the number of werewolves per square inch in Beacon Hills, it was almost impossible for none of them to have caught a scent.)

 

So they started organizing patrols in hopes of being there if the Ice Queen made a mistake, and on one such occasion – due to Erica’s sneaky, meddling ways – Derek somehow ended up with Stiles in Stiles’ Jeep, heading out to the Preserve.

 

He was half-heartedly listening to Stiles ranting under his breath and giving a very graphic rundown of how he was going to _skin Erica’s fur coat off her evil she-wolf back_ if she ever put them together again on the same patrol shift, when to their huge surprise, they almost literally ran into the Ice Queen’s hench-snowman. Stiles stomped on the break and they watched, stunned, as the huge icy creature disappeared into a cave in the side of the mountain.

 

Stiles had always been the man with a plan, he didn’t want to barge in there without any idea of what they would do, so after a little deliberation they decided they would try to use the element of surprise. Derek would distract it – probably by trying to beat it into powdery flakes of snow – and Stiles would sneak in and destroy the mirror with a little hocus-pocus.

 

It seemed like a solid and simple plan and it held up pretty well exactly to the point where they entered the cave and got subsequently trapped by the illusion cast by said magic mirror.

 

**********

 

“Sooo, you’re trying to tell me you don’t find it even a tiny bit odd that we’re stuck here together in an icy dungeon while it snows on our heads and the freaking Abominable Snowman paces around trying to freeze our balls off?”

 

“No. What I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t have broken that fucking mirror!”

 

“You shouldn’t have made asshole remarks then. This isn’t a rendition of Frozen, the Snow Queen is not Elsa and she’s definitely not _letting us go_ ,” snapped Stiles.

 

“What the fuck are you even talking about, Stiles?”

 

“Never mind. Of course you’re too sour to watch Disney films, heaven forbid some emotions might actually rub off on you. Although, with your eyebrows and the expression on your face anyone might still confuse you with an axe murderer even if you were Rudolf the Red-Nose Reindeer.”

 

“Would you stop comparing me to hundred year old cartoon characters and maybe start working on getting out of these ropes instead?”

 

“It’s hopeless, even my internal organs are developing icicles and unlike _some people_ I don’t have the super strength to break out of bindings that have frozen into a block of ice. Maybe if you hadn’t decided to jump directly into the path of the magic shards Mr. Frosty there threw at us, you could use said super strength and we might not be stuck in this mess right now. Though really, now would be a great time,” Stiles added, his teeth chattering loudly,” to get your _fur coat_ on, because otherwise we might just freeze to death in this charming ice chamber.”

 

The sigh Derek heaved in response was so loud the ice elemental – that Stiles had not-so-affectionately dubbed the Abominable Snowman – turned towards them and narrowed it’s cold, dumb, ice crystal eyes in suspicion.

 

“Stiles, I can’t shift. I don’t know what kind of magic was in those damned ice shards but right now, I’m basically as human as you are. And my nose is not red.”

 

“Wow, you actually got one pop-cultural reference, kudos to you. Shall we open some champagne and celebrate? Oh, wait. We can’t, because if you haven’t realized yet, we are tied. To each other. Back-to-back. And _that_ there,” he said, gesturing with his chin as much as he could towards their guard,” is an ice elemental.”

 

“Thank you, truly, for summing up the obvious. I am completely aware of all of that. I finally understand why you’re so pissed off. You can’t just accidentally fall over your own feet and blow up the place while doing so.”

 

“Oh, sure, kick me where it hurts, why don’t you? _Asshole_.”

 

They sat there for a few minutes in complete silence, both fuming and keeping track of the slow, laboring steps of the elemental.

 

 

“Stiles.”

 

“Yes, Derek? What is it now? Would you like to add something to your previous barrage of insults? Maybe comment on how much of a useless loser I am? Possibly criticize me a little more? Tell me how this inevitably is my fault, like everything always is, since I’m such a huge curse to your existence in general?”

 

Since they had their backs to each other, Stiles couldn’t see the vein on Derek’s temple starting to throb. “If you’d shut up for a moment and concentrate on something other than feeling sorry for yourself, you could pay attention to what I’m trying to tell you,” he snapped finally.

 

Derek’s outburst surprised the young druid in training so much, that for a moment he was only able to gape, like a fish suddenly on land.

 

“This is all ice, Stiles. You understand? _Ice._ Maybe you could, I don’t know, try and use something you’ve spent literal weeks with Deaton on? Like, let’s say, thawing out our ropes, maybe?”

 

“But… but I can’t!” Stiles sputtered out defensively. “I… it’s completely random with me. I could accidentally kill both of us,” he said and pursed his lips in frustration, while giving a few stomps to the frozen ground under his soles.

 

“I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be blown up in hopes of us getting out of here than freezing into an ice statue,” Derek answered, the last words turning almost into a snarl. It didn’t really matter how loud they were being, the elemental wouldn’t care and didn’t seem to understand them anyway.

 

Derek’s words – despite their bite – held an amount of logic that Stiles couldn’t argue with, so with a painful sigh he decided to give the alpha’s idea a shot and try to summon some flames. He took a deep breath and tried to focus and find his magic and calm down his nerves. After a few minutes, as he concentrated on fire, tiny flames started to emerge between their tied hands. The magical fire didn’t burn their flesh but started to slowly thaw, then burn away the ropes.

 

As soon as they were done, Stiles shrugged the binds off, stood up and started to melt the bars of their ice prison. He barely made any headway on one of the three finger wide bars, when the elemental turned the corner, spotted his actions and started barreling towards them at top speed with an ear splitting roar.

 

“Uh… Derek? How are your wolfy powers coming along?”

 

“Not well,” answered the alpha, staring with disdain at his completely human nails.

 

“Ah. That’s unfortunate. Unpleasant. Unfavorable. Also problematic, since, I’m afraid,” babbled Stiles, his face screwed up into a grimace while he continued to work on melting the bars with the tiny flames in his hands,” there’s a teeny-tiny 200 ton problem charging at us at full speed and we don’t really have anywhere to go. And don’t even think about counting on my flames because if I try to switch to a higher gear, I’m pretty sure we’re both gonna go _BOOM_. Or maybe I’ll just spontaneously combust. Or both, if what Deaton said was true. Anyway, point is, we’re gonna die,” and with that final dramatic exclamation, Stiles just shut his eyes and hoped for a quick end.

 

Derek clenched his stubbled jaw, pressed his lips into a tight line and with an exasperated eye roll stepped in front of the teen, who still hadn’t stopped going on about all the dangers that were threatening their lives.

 

Stiles’ body jumped two inches without his brain’s input when the earth shook under his feet as the fists of the elemental and Derek’s connected.

 

His eyes grew wide and he stared in shock as the creature, made entirely of ice, ran one of its huge, frozen, icicle like arms through Derek’s left shoulder. The alpha let out a quiet whimper of pain as he felt bone shatter and the elemental started drawing on his life force.

 

At the sound of Stiles screaming his name, to the surprise of all three of them, the blue pulsing light connecting Derek to the creature turned to a vibrant shade of red and as it reached his eyes, they popped open, glowing the same color. The Ice Queen’s Hench-Snowman’s crystalized mouth formed a stupid looking ‘O’ as it tried to comprehend the happenings with its tiny, frozen pea brain. Derek took only a moment to recover from his surprise and as soon as he did, he tore himself from the grip of the elemental and threw himself into the fight with all his alpha strength.

 

“Of course!” Stiles exclaimed with a slap to his forehead. “Elementals have the ability to take energy from other beings to supplement their own but this beast has already snacked on you once when we got captured. You probably had like a shard left in you or something that stopped you from healing and when it tried to drain you again then it…”

 

“Came back to me, yes, Stiles I figured that out too,” came Derek’s shout who was currently hanging from the shoulders of the elemental and trying to beat its head into submission. “Would you finally move your ass and set that fucking mirror on fire so we can finally get the hell out of here?!”

 

For the second time that day the teen swallowed back his acerbic rejoinder because once again, the alpha was right and only Stiles could break the illusion of the mirror. He finally managed to slip through the melted bars of the cage and ran over to the ornate ice table standing in the middle of the cave. He called the flames to light in his palms, careful not to overdo it and tried to concentrate. If the whole druid thing was good for nothing else, at least it helped with arranging his thoughts a little.

 

As he splayed his flaming hands over the mirror, not only the frame but also all the tiny shards it had been previously shattered into lit up and the world around them started to shimmer and twist, as if it were a curtain obscuring reality.

 

Stiles’ mouth started to curl up in a satisfied smile as the hulking shape of the Abominable Snowman halted in the middle of a movement, shuddered, fell to pieces and vanished. Stiles couldn’t contain his fist pump and threw a wink at a heaving Derek.

 

As the illusion of the realm of snow and ice slowly started to melt away and turn back into the plain, dry rock of the cave it originally was, something unexpected happened that neither of them had – stupidly – thought of. From one of the last, tiny shards of glass still remaining of the magic mirror, the form of none other, but the Ice Queen herself emerged, coming back to collect her broken key, cloaked in her dress of gleaming ice crystals and with one move, picked up and threw the teen across the cave.

 

Stiles hit the wall with a grunt and before he could stand he was hit in the chest by a beam of ice-blue light. The attack was over almost before it began and both the teen and the alpha watched helplessly as the Queen grabbed what was left of her magic mirror and vanished into her own realm leaving a nothing but trail of frost behind.

 

Dashing to Stiles, Derek cursed Destiny, the Gods, demons, Mother Nature and everyone else available for pulling the rug out from under him when it came to the human for the second time in such a short period.

 

Stiles sat with his back against the wall of the – now completely normal – cave and stared up at the alpha from under his lashes with huge whiskey eyes. Derek heard the tiny sobbing sounds coming from his chest and saw how there were tiny icicles forming at the base of his eyelashes.

 

“D-de-deeer-ree-eek,” Stiles uttered between shivers and his clacking teeth. “I-Iii-I’m fre-ee-ezz-zing.”

 

Derek leaned down to carefully inspect the damage done by the icy projectile and as he softly pulled apart the sides of Stiles’ soaked jacket and tenderly lifted his hoodie to see Stiles’ chest he had to stifle a gasp. The teen’s chest was covered with tiny ice crystals, purpling the skin around the place where the Ice Queen’s jab had hit. The alpha instinctively knew that Stiles shouldn’t have been able to survive the hit, yet it seemed that his druid fire – even as it extinguished during the attack – had kept him alive.

 

As he assessed the damage his mind was already whirring trying to remember everything he had ever read about hypothermia and its cures. He knew he needed to warm Stiles up as soon as possible and keep him that way until they had a chance to get him some kind of medical help. He was also aware of the cliché that was about to happen, but apart from getting warm clothes and blankets from somewhere – not to mention medical equipment that they didn’t have access to – the easiest way to raise Stiles’ temperature would be by sharing his body heat.

 

So he leaned in and started peeling Stiles out of his wet clothes to swap them for his own mostly dry ones. “Stiles, I gotta get you out of these and into something dry or you’ll just get worse,” he explained to the teen who just kept shaking and blinking from under his lashes.

 

“I-i-ii rre-al-ly di-dii-didn’t th-thhin-k th-this-s w-was h-how th-this w-was go-gon-na ha-hap-pen,” Stiles’ bluing lips pulled into a tired smile as he shuddered again.

 

“Me neither, but right now this is necessary,” Derek’s movements were sure and practiced as he quickly divested Stiles’ rigid limbs of his heavy, wet clothes. As soon as he was done, he shed his own and carefully dressed the teen in them.

 

“S-ss-so y-y-you’r-re n-nno-not g-ggo-goonna d-de-deny t-thi-in-inki-ing a-ab-bout i-iit?” Stiles tried again, his teeth clicking together on every sound.

 

“’Course I have, Stiles, it has always been my dream for you to get shot with a shard of magic ice in the chest so I could crawl into my leather jacket next to you and warm up your frigid ass before you freeze to death,” said Derek but his reply came out more fond and chiding than he would have liked.

 

Lifting the aforementioned jacket, wearing only his boxers he slipped behind the half frozen teen and dragged him into the curve of his body, laying the jacket on top.

 

“De-der-rek? I-I-I’m s-so-sor-rry ab-abot b-bef-fore. I-I w-was b-be-eing st-stu-upid.”

 

“It’s fine, I know. Just try to get warm and I’ll call for help.” With that Derek started rummaging for his phone in the pocket of his jacket and after a little deliberation dialed Scott’s number and informed him of their predicament. They decided that Scott would grab his mom and Deaton and meet them at the hospital while Lydia and Isaac would drive out to get them.

 

After he hung up and slid his phone back in place he hugged Stiles closer, pressing his bare chest to the back of the slowly warming body of the teen and hooked his legs over Stiles’ thighs to surround him even more in a move so smooth it felt as if they’d been doing this for ages.

 

Surprising even himself, he lay a kiss on top of Stiles’ wet and messy hair and dug his nose behind his ear. Meanwhile Stiles wiggled a bit until he was comfortable and drew Derek around himself like a huge, musclebound blanket and settled in to wait. Just as his eyes were starting to get heavy and his blinking slower he felt Derek carefully jostle him awake.

 

“Hey, Stiles, you can’t fall asleep yet. Try to stay awake, help’s almost here. You know what? Tell me what that Frozen thing is about, you’ve made me kinda curious.”

 

“N-na-nah,” snorted Stiles,” do-don’t t-tr-try t-to l-lie t-to m-me, S-so-our-w-wolf. I-I c-ca-an t-tell y-yo-ou’re l-ly-ing e-ev-ven wi-with-o-out y-you-ur w-wol-f-fy p-po-ow-e-ers.”

 

“Stiles, I swear if we’re done with this mess I’m gonna sit down and watch that stupid film with you, but for now, could you tell me about what I’m signing myself up for?”

 

“D-di-id I-I he-hear th-that ri-right? Di-did y-you j-just ask m-me out?” Stiles’ snigger turned into a cough that wracked his body. “W-was th-that r-really w-what I th-think it was? Di-did Derek Ha-hale just a-ask me on a d-date? Y-you know I-I’m only g-gonna say yes i-if you t-tell me which t-two chara-cters we w-would be.”

 

“Yeah, that just happened,” Derek sighed, whispering into Stiles’ ears,” we’ll get back to that part later but for now, what’s up with that film, hm?”

 

**********

 

Derek hugged Stiles’ still half-frozen body closer on the backseat and tried to will him to get warmer quicker. Under the useful cover of Lydia’s pink fluffy blanket the werewolf’s fingers found Stiles’ and started to softly knead some warmth back into his fingertips.

 

Stiles wiggled as close to Derek’s werewolf hot – in every sense of the word – body as was physically possible and let out a satisfied groan as he felt the heat seep into his frigid skin. He buried his face between Derek’s neck and shoulder pressing his icy nose to the crook and breathed in the alpha’s scent. Derek felt Stiles’ limbs starting to go loose, his heartbeat calming and slowing as he gently drifted towards sleep.

 

“Hey, Derek?” Stiles murmured drowsily. “Thank you.”

 

Derek’s eyebrows lifted. “What for?” He asked softly. “I didn’t do anything. “

 

Stiles squirmed around until he could look up at the face of the alpha with huge, whiskey colored eyes. “Of course you did, Derek. You didn’t let me freeze. To death.”

 

Derek was about to answer when Isaac, who was sitting in the passenger seat and giving them sly looks, cut in saying, “I don’t want to interrupt this charmingly romantic moment but would you mind drawing that blanket closer to you? I don’t really feel like having nightmares about Stilinski’s ass. Plus, I’m not sure it’s helping much with the warming up process like that.”

 

“But, it’s not even ou…” Stiles was cut off by a huge sneeze that shook the whole interior of the car. He looked up, face flaming.

 

“Who’s the Rudolf now?” asked Derek with a sardonic raise of an eyebrow. Stiles opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out, except another sneeze. And another. Seemed like his sneezing decided to go all out and didn’t stop until number ten. Stiles moaned pitifully and wound his body even more around Derek’s, conceded defeat and shut up.

“By the way,” came Derek’s voice from somewhere above his head, “I’d be Toothless…”

 

Stiles lifted his head to stare at him, a look on his face as if Derek had just announced that he enjoyed dancing ballet in a pink tu-tu.

 

“What?” Derek looked back slightly defensively. “You asked me what kind of children’s characters we would be. My answer is Toothless. And you’d be Hiccup.”

 

The teen’s eyes grew wide his sudden laugh turning into a cough that shook his whole body. “Well, Sourwolf, a date it is. I was expecting you to say many things, but comparing us to a one-legged Viking boy and his Nightfury was not on the list. Though, come to think of it, it kind of makes sense. Except I don’t have a metal leg. And I’m not _that_ much of a klutz,” Stiles wiggled again.

 

There was a moment of silence before everyone erupted into laughter. “Stiles, dear,” Lydia called out from behind the wheel, “I hope you’re not serious. If there’s anyone out there who can manage to fall face first and on their ass at the same time after sneezing, it’s you. Don’t fool yourself into thinking otherwise.”

 

She reached for her phone, dialed and put it on speaker. _“What’s up? What happened? Are they alright?”_ sounded Erica’s tinny voice a moment later from the device.

 

“Hey, Catwoman, I’m fine,” came Stiles’ slightly raspy reply from somewhere under the blanket on the backseat, not bothering to raise his voice. “We’re all fine, don’t worry.”

 

Lydia ignored him and gave a quick rundown to Erica. “Everything’s fine, they’re mostly in one piece, we’re on our way to the hospital. And,” she quieted her voice to a theatric whisper,” seems like _Project D_ was a win.” The joyous scream from the other end of the line made Erica’s opinion on that statement clear. “By the way, that means…”

 

“I won the bet!” Isaac’s face lit up. “We won ourselves a new TV for the loft!” Seeing the confused frown on Derek’s face Isaac turned to him and explained. “We had a bet going on when the two of you would finally get together and it seems like I was the one closest.”

 

“But, we’re…” started Derek, then looked down at Stiles in his lap and changed his mind. “I was just thinking about getting one anyway, but I guess I don’t have to worry about it now,” he sighed, leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to the teen’s forehead.

 

“Um… what does the _D_ stand for exactly in this repeatedly mentioned project of yours?” Stiles asked hesitantly with slight trepidation in his voice. It had annoyed him from the start and he still couldn’t figure it out.

 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lydia piped up. “It was prompted by Erica’s current Greek Mythology mania. It’s short for _Daimon Project_. Or, well, I guess _E. D. Project_ would have been more accurate as in _Eudaimon Project_ but Scott was already having trouble with _Daimon_ , so,” she finished, shaking her strawberry blonde curls reproachfully.

 

“So _that’s_ why Deaton was going on about you guys knowing better than to play Fate Goddesses to Scott,” said Stiles wrinkling his forehead in thought. “Got it. Though, next time, if you guys give something like this another shot, maybe try with a little less… uh… you know…”

 

“Life-threatening situations?” Derek suggested, voice dry as a desert.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” cut in Isaac with a satisfied sigh. “The important thing is that we’re gonna be able to switch on our _eudaimonistic_ TV in a euphoric state and Sterek is a go and my wish will come true and I can finally sleep.” And with that, he leaned back in his seat with a smile on his face.

 

The rest of the way they argued about what they were going to watch on said TV first. Nobody bothered to correct Isaac about his assumption about sleep…

 

 

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, please leave a comment or send us some love in the form of kudos. Or hit us up on Tumblr at [ ritarmandi](http://ritarmandi.tumblr.com) for Ryennin and [ nosetothewind94](http://nosetothewind94.tumblr.com) for me, nosetothewind.


End file.
